


The Flooded Cathedral

by JackBivouac



Series: Ruins of Azlant [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bestiality, Bondage, F/M, Foot Fetish, Forced Orgasm, Furry, Group Sex, Interspecies Sex, Multi, Other, Punishment, Rape, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-07 03:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: The adventures of Renghe, Fret, Themais, and Lyrath on the supposedly uninhabited island chosen for their colony





	1. Bees of a Stinger

During the hunt and gathering, Eamon, Harcourt, and the syrinx Lyrath had spotted an ancient temple abandoned to the tropical forest. When they were ready, Lyrath took Renghe, Fret, and Themais to investigate the ruins on this supposedly uninhabited island.

The temple, once at the water's edge, was now partially submerged. Most of the complex surrounding the cathedral itself was completely ruined. Only a handful of outbuildings still stood in the rubble-strewn grounds.

Naturally, the group of four decided to split up in teams of two for more efficient exploration. The owl-headed Lyrath with wings capable of flight descending from his claw-scaled arms partnered with Themais, the strongest swimmer, to explore the submerged section of the cathedral. Leaving Renghe and Fret to investigate the outbuildings first and work inward.

Two thirty-foot stone towers loomed well over the treeline. They were perforated with many even rows of square holes and flanked a third, hexagonal building only ten feet tall. 

Renghe’s ears and tail twitched as they approached. A low buzz murmured out from the stone towers. The kitsune stopped, Fret bumbling into his still unclothed backside.

“Yowch! Hey, what’s…” Her tall, rabbit ears twitched as well. As did her nose. Her eyes widened, filled with a strange, liquid light. “Honey.”

The air was thick and heavy with its sweet, floral scent. But Renghe shook his head. “I might be ok, but you have almost no fur. If the bees in there swarm…”

Fret bit her trembling lips but nodded, blinking hard. Her entire body, ears, tail, and all, slumped dejectedly. No honey, not today. Not until they could cobble together a bee suit.

Renghe chuckled and gave her a quick shoulder hug. “Chin up, Fret. Well find something.”

Unfortunately, they did. Two five-foot, giant bees with a five-foot wingspan burst out from the trees, buzzing furiously. Their yellow and black bodies were coated in bristling hairs. Their stingers were the size of daggers.

Renghe and Fret screamed, turning tail. They had no hope of outrunning their flying pursuers. The bees bore down on either of them, crushing their bodies face-down into the dirt.

What they didn’t realize in their panic was that these giant bees were similar to their smaller counterparts beyond looks. One sting, and they were good as dead. Instead, they put their tapered, jointed back legs together to teach these intruders a lesson.

Renghe yelped, Fret shrieked as the bee’s two, tapered feet shoved without warning into their naked assholes. The kitsune’s body started forward into a jump, but the giant bee atop him kept his chest pinned to the ground with its bulk and his arms pinned at the elbows and wrists under the four of its.

The bees’ feet pistoned heedlessly into their anuses, tearing through their walls with a tapered stretch that left their assholes twitching and straining around the insects’ penetrating feet. Renghe’s knees and hindpaws scuffed the dirt, kicking and jerking helplessly behind their rapist’s razor-sharp stinger. He grit his teeth, eyes burning with tears as Fret’s tortured screams filled the air.

The bee’s feet rammed knee-deep up the kitsune’s anal shaft. A choked whine tore through his nose and clenched teeth. The mouth of his ass, forced round the bee’s two legs burst into back-arching convulsion. 

Renghe snorted whine after whine, his eyes rolling back into his skull as spasms wracked his pinioned body. His dick, forced erect by the endless shriek of his nerves, shot his own, burning seed all over the fur of his underbelly. Not once, but again and again as the bees punished the intruders with merciless rape.

Renghe quivered and sunk into darkness in the puddle of his own cum.


	2. Danger, Detective

Lyrath and the lilac-scaled nagaji Themais entered the cathedral as close to the sunken halls as they could. They descended steep stone stairs to a half-submerged corridor, the water promising to rise to their waists. Curiously enough, though the temple itself was dark, magical light flickered on and off in the flooded corridor.

“The water could be contaminated with whatever magic is making the lights flicker,” mused Lyrath, his brow furrowed beneath all the feathers.

“Then let’s just get as close as we can, see what we can see, then explore the upper level with the others,” said Themais.

The two shared a nod and followed the stairs to the water’s edge. Despite the unsteady lighting, both spotted a disturbance in the waters. Bodies.

They floated on their faces and bellies in the water. Their skin was sickly pale beneath the stark, uneven lighting. Though they appeared mostly human, swathes of fish scales striped their backsides along with misshapen fins. What at first appeared to be slash marks on their throats were...gills.

“Themais?” rasped Lyrath, his throat sudden parched.

“Yes?” they hissed quietly.

He pointed a clawed finger at a curiously detailed shape on one of the bodies’ backs. “That’s a tattoo. These must’ve been colonists, originally.”

“That would mean the first colonists were kidnapped, experimented on, but killed and discarded only recently.”

“My, aren’t you clever?” spoke a third, disembodied voice that rang through the corridor over the face of the water. “Only, you were wrong on one count.”

“Which one?” asked Lyrath, unable to help himself even in the face of the unknown intelligence who’d brought an entire colony to its knees.

“My little failures aren’t dead.”

The six bodies bobbing the water sank below the surface.

“Run!” hissed Themais.

Fish-headed mutants exploded from the water at the foot of the stairs, roaring, snapping, and clawing at the two. Lyrath and Themais ran screaming up the steep, slick stairs.

Lyrath tripped but beat his wings to keep from falling. Themais tripped. Clawed, webbed hands seized their legs.

“Help!” they screamed.

Lyrath flapped down low enough to grab their arms. The mutated colonists were dragged them both down. The syrinx roared and pulled Themais with all their might. The nagaji, yanked in both directions, screamed in pain.

Lyrath couldn’t keep up his strength against the six. At the first, slightest give, he and Themais went hurtling back down the stairs. They splashed into the water of the corridor.

The hall was even deeper than it appeared, dropping a full thirty feet below the surface. There in the dark water, illuminated by the flashing light, lurked a twenty-five-foot long, six thousand pound creature known as an aboleth. Four long tentacles writhed out from the flanks of the three-eyed beast, its entire body covered in a thick, light-blurring slime.

One tentacle seized around each of the explorers. It coiled tight around their swimming bodies, pinning their arms tight to their sides and dragging them further from the air above.

“I’m so glad to see the colony has finally repopulated,” said the aboleth. “For such good news, you messengers ought to be rewarded.”

Lyrath and Themais had not the breath to spare for protest as a second tentacle slithered up between their legs. Its rubbery head prodded Lyrath’s anus, sending his burning lungs into a panic. He had to calm down to save his air. It just wasn’t possible with the thick, slimy tentacle shoving up into his clenched anus.

Lyrath kicked at the tentacles leashing him to the body of the aboleth, clawing with his taloned feet. His upper body wriggled and writhed in the tentacle’s tight, slimy grasp. Maybe, just maybe…

The aboleth’s binding tentacle coiled even tighter, forcing precious air from his compressed lungs. Below, the raping tentacle pounded into his constricted body, ripping through his anal walls.

Lyrath’s lungs burned, setting his entire body aflame. The heat reached to his deepest cavities, creating merciless friction in his tentacle-pounded shaft. 

Lyrath’s owlish eyes rolled back into his skull. His dick rose of its own accord, stiffened by the waves of heat being reamed up his stuffed anus. The tentacle bent double, triple, and filled him to bursting. His taut walls had no choice but to convulse.

His entire, asphyxiating body spasmed in the aboleth’s grasp. Seed burst from his dick into a white, blooming cloud in the water. That water rushed in through his moaning beak. Just as his consciousness rushed out.

The aboleth smiled from their three eyes as aboleths are wont to do. They swam off with their new, pleasured toys into the deeper, darker waters of the cathedral.


	3. The Library Can Be a Suffocating Place

Renghe and Fret revived sometime around the afternoon and picked themselves up off the jungle floor. They staggered away from the outbuildings and toward the dry half of the cathedral. After all this time, Themais and Lyrath must have thoroughly explored the submerged section and therefore would be awaiting them in the dry.

“It’s the only explanation. They wouldn’t just leave us,” rasped Renghe.

“R-right,” croaked Fret, with a weak, mildly panicked smile.

The first door into dry half of the cathedral brought them to an ancient library. Long bookcases of cracked marble stood side by side. Some shelves had been smashed to pieces, countless fragments and the molding remains of ancient books strewn about the floor. 

The few surviving books were wrinkled, fragile, and still reeking of mold. In fact, some of the pages looked positively gelatinous. Before Renghe could stop her, Fret picked one such gluey book off the shelf.

“What…?” An oily black ooze leaped out from off the page and onto Fret’s face of brow-furrowed confusion. “Mmph!”

Fret dropped the book, tearing at the oily ooze adhered to her face. It flowed into nose and mouth, filling her with a thick, gluey taste of oil. The ooze rippled from its backside, shooting out sticky tendrils up to her tall rabbit’s ears and coiling down around her neck and shoulders.

“Fret!” yelled Renghe, flicking out his claws. He tore as carefully as he could at the ooze over her face.

Broken tendrils of ooze stuck to his paws and her hands. The ooze curled around up their wrists, continuing to grow. For every rip and tear they managed, five times as many tendrils shot out in the strand’s place. That torn strand only stuck to their fingers until their hands were uselessly encased in oily black mittens.

Their hands, arms, necks, and heads. Renghe crashed to the ground, lungs burning. He kept his mouth closed, but the ooze was filling his snout as it continued to envelope his lower body. Its sticky mass forced his arms together in front of him, curling his upper body into a fetal position.

Renghe, suffocating in a suit of ooze, had never been more helpless. Then the sticky strands reached his naked crotch.

The ooze poured in through his twitching asshole just as through his nose, filling his anal shaft with its heavy, oily sludge. Even as he tried to conserve his depleting breath, his legs instinctively kicked and jerked.

Sticky tendrils wrapped fingerlike around his cock. They pulled and sucked him erect into a vacuum-tight pocket of ooze. The pocket squeezed, continuing to pull and suck even after sheathing his dick to the hilt, descending to wrap around his balls.

Renghe’s legs kicked. His helpless hips, penetrated through the ass and swallowed from the dick, bucked and humped uncontrollably against the library floor.

The kitsune could feel his lungs shrivelling into plumes of fire, his throat constricting in the grip of raping ooze. With his last breath, all thought fell away, completely baring him to the animal pleasure rutting up his ass and sucking ravenously on his dick.

He came in the fetal position, his anus clenching around the stuffing ooze, his seed bursting from his head into a hold so tight it coated his own cock like vaginal slick. His curled body wracked with shuddering. The side of his head banged against the library floor, untethering his consciousness.

The sentient ooze gaze its latest catches a final, pleased squeeze and dragged them through a opening in the wall. Its master would be pleased with such lively catches as well.


	4. A Deal with the Dead

The exploring party did not return to Talmandor by dusk as promised. Something ill had befallen them and every last one of the new colonists knew it. It was too dark to set off for the cathedral, so Roaan and the others organized to set out at dawn instead.

They finally rummaged up clothes and mismatched armor. They armed themselves with farm and dining tools. The party hadn’t returned in a day, so they packed their rucksacks with extra food and water for Renghe, Fret, Themais, and Lyrath.

When dawn broke red over the placid sea and wild jungle, they were ready. Roaan, Machi, Pell, Eamon, and Harcourt set out for the cathedral. There were only nine of them left upon this island. No one would be left behind.

The ruined, flooded cathedral was as silent as a mausoleum when they arrived. They searched the dry half for life first. They found only the echoes of their own.

There was nothing for it. They had to search the submerged halls. The five survivors descended steep stone stairs to a half-submerged corridor, the water promising to rise to their waists. Curiously enough, though the temple itself was dark, magical light flickered on and off in the flooded corridor.

“You can stop right there,” said a voice echoing between the water and stone.

The five froze, the stark light flickering over their tensed faces and bodies.

Up from the water rose a tall, imposing human with long black hair in a severe widow’s peak. Not a human, a lich. 

The undead’s violet eyes simmered with an inner fire. Gold jewelry and elegant robes draped and concealed their withered frame. They were far more precious than anything brought to the island by a colonist. None of the five, in fact, recognized this lich as a colonist.

“Pardon the rudeness, but who are you?” asked Roaan.

The lich’s withered lips parted in a pearly white smile. “My name is Auberon. And it is I who ought to be asking your names, little intruders. This island, you see, belongs to me.”

“So you’re the one who took our friends?” asked Harcourt.

“No, indeed. They and I have a common enemy. There’s an aboleth in these waters who’s always taking what is mine for whatever fell, unknowable designs cross their mind. There’s no doubt in mine that they’ve taken your friends just as they took those who came before you.”

“The first colonists!” said Machi.

“Indeed.”

“Then how do we get them back?” asked Eamon. “Our friends and the colonists, if they’re...if that’s still possible.”

“I believe that it may be and I have a plan that will benefit us both. Will you help me?” Auberon extended a clawed, skeletal hand.

The five shared a glance. They couldn’t trust this mysterious lich who definitely had some unknowable designs of their own, but neither could they rescue their friends from an aboleth on their own.

Roaan grasped their hand. “We’ll help you, Auberon.”

They didn’t have a choice.


End file.
